Vain Symmetry
by heartsans
Summary: Korra, in her thirties, meets a young man named Noatak, in a world where bending is no longer welcome. (Tahnorrasami, Noarra)
1. sorry

**_AUTHOR'S NOTE, PLEASE DO NOT IGNORE:_**

**_I have revised Chapters 2-4 to have a darker premise, because the fluff wandered away from my original intent, which is to display the capacity of human cruelty. If this will upset your tastes, please feel free to stop reading this. Thank you._**

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1- sorry

Noatak, as it happens, is a modestly popular name, due to the romantication and later domestication of the Equalist movement, the current model a genteel party of tree huggers and activists. With a members' list of popular celebrities and nonbending, pioneers of science, it is trendy to be an Equalist, or even a sympathizer who happens to be a bender. The name no longer carries a badge of violence; to be an Equalist means supporting medicinal marvels outside of bending, of glorious technology, of color television screens created by nonbenders. It has escalated to a point where to be a nonbender in society gives you the assumed standing of someone more innovative, more bright- without bending as a crutch, it forces the mind to burn brighter.

Avatar Korra hates it. She loathes this brave new world filled with little boys and clever men named after her torturer, and every time she meets one, often a bratty child who considers benders like dumb work mules, she wants to shout out all his crimes, including the one she never named. But she is the Avatar, and the Avatar has duties.

Asami counsels her and has spent years teaching her elaborate hairstyles and polished speech. Time has tamed her, no longer the brash teenage girl with little knowledge of politics or charm. She smiles. She performs. She can even dance; the masses love it when she waltzes on air with a lucky man in tow, dress billowing beneath her. It is a cheap parlor trick, but it drives the audience wild. And all that time, Asami makes her remember.

"Not all publicity is good publicity." Tip one. "You can still lie, if you lie by omission." Tip two.

She remembers the pale elegance of her friend, lips curling in dead solemnity as she repeated this advice like a prayer, or a curse.

"But most of all, don't get caught."

"Doing what?" Korra asked back then.

"You'll know whenever you do it. Every time."

Sound words. Asami is sweet like dessert wine, but sharp as a knife in business transactions, a result of unearthing Future Industries from the graveyard of her father's mistakes. She passes the knowledge of fairness and unfairness, as well as looking fair even when you're not, onto Korra. Some of the lessons stick, much like their friendship, the only thing that weathered the times. Bolin flew in an entirely different direction- humanitarian work towards more rural Earth Kingdom areas. Mako was off... somewhere. As for Tenzin, all his claims of his pride and love fall to the look of disappointment in his face when Korra is too curt, or too blunt, or not traditional enough.

"You have to make bending popular again," he told her as buildings rose, as roads are paved, as open heart surgery saves a life instead of waterbending.

"The Avatar has been reduced to a washed out celebrity who comes to charity events and smiles a lot, Tenzin. It's fine. It's a peaceful world. A world with no need of bending. I would rather have that world."

He has stopped since then. He does call her on her cellular to greet her a happy birthday ("you're thirty-five, I can't believe it") right as she enters a history quiz show as a guest judge for college students, displayed on the television. The topic at hand is the Equalist movement. Three eager late teens to twenty-somethings answer questions about Amon, about bloodbending, about Tarrlok's reveal as Amon's brother. Korra stifles her urge to cringe at the ghosts in her mind as she focuses on the young man with the highest score. He's wearing his hair like she used to when she was younger, and happens to be named Noatak, feeble smile and bird thin wrists apparent even through two layers of sweaters. He wears his face like a hiding victim with no desire to be seen, let alone found. They meet eyes.

Noatak is all terror and no spirit and his mouth gapes open as he is declared the winner, the prize being ten grand (not very much due to inflation) and a dinner date with the Avatar (not very much even though she is the Avatar). When she rises to shake his hand, it is trembling. He stares resolutely at the ground.

"It's an honor," he stammers, avoiding her general gaze and looking towards the audience. "In a world so concrete and explainable, the Avatar is the closest way for anyone to get to heaven or something outside of the ordinary. Bending has never been explained off by science, and I don't think it can ever be. That's why it's still worth keeping."

Heaven. Heaven? Was that one of those new loaded religion words? She smiles at what she construes as flattery, and pats him on the back.

His knees shake. She takes note.

"Where would you like to have dinner with the Avatar?" they asked him, suggesting a network sponsored list of eateries. Noatak laughs, an empty sound.

"At her house. Hey, she's the Avatar, there's literally nothing I can do to hurt her, right?"

Cautious murmurs and clapping from the audience. Korra smiles. Poor boy.

"I'd be glad to, Noatak. I'm not a very good cook though, just warning you."

Is he nervous? Is he shy? Korra never dealt with shy people. She whisks him away to the exit stage prematurely, away from the way from the crowd and stares, and feels how his hands are flies attempting to escape.

"What's wrong? You can tell me."

Noatak sobs. He sobs and shows no sign of stopping, but they are far away and she ran fast, he's safe, he's fine, nobody will say anything, nobody will see.

"He... raped you. I... raped you. And I can't make it up to you I can't I can't I-"

The voice is different, lighter and weaker, but it is also the same. Korra recoils, disgusted.

"You remember everything, don't you."

"Yes."

His words are frail. Korra scowls and slaps him in the face, the mark enough to bruise. Tenzin mentioned that there is history of people reincarnating outside of the Avatar, of memories intact and pristine. Her pity transforms into horror, solid form and slim man- barely a man.

Only a boy.

Her heart is hard, regardless.

He wipes his tears. "I... I want to make it up to you. Whatever it takes. Amon won't make it up to you, so I feel accountable. Please, let me."

The thought of concrete vengeance buries itself in her heart, tempting evil and cruelty.

"Come to the dinner date. Bring no one."

He nods, and by the time the press catch up to them he is dry eyes and muted face, saying with strange convincingness of his excitement to be in the company of the Avatar for a few precious hours. Korra questions the possibilities. Is he a nonbender this round? Is he sincere? Does he still want to kill her?

Noatak is Amon's height but most likely only a little over half his weight. In her territory, she has the distinct advantage of knowing exactly what to use should he attempt to overpower her.

"What's the bruise, Noatak?" a man with a camera asks.

"I fell. I'm really clumsy!"

The oncoming small talk fills her stomach with bile and she leaves early. Her mind is already filling up the various ways to torture without killing. It is a dangerous feeling, a consuming feeling.

She can't bring herself to care.


	2. dues

2- dues

The worst part about knowledge is that it weighs down like boulders, crushing and endless. In his brief stint at the Ba Sing Se Medical University, Noatak remembers exact ligaments, the fine human machine in all its functions. It is impossible to unlearn what he knows about the heart, the lungs, the vessels and veins, delicate moss and vines entwining ivory columns of bone. As Amon, the body served as both instrument and obstacle; as Noatak, the body is a curse.

Try as he might to deny, history looms over him, an umbra of evil. In minute detail, he sees the veil of dusk moons and his weeping brother, his father's hand treasuring him as his greatest possession. Wolves fleeing with whimpers. Benders pleading. The water rising to envelop him, the mute resignation of the only person he had left in the world.

In the pads of his bony fingers, he recalls Korra's damp skin and dismantled sobs, the far away quickening of his heart, a foreign satisfaction of breaking a symbol held so dear. It still gives him palpitations, but for a different reason- Amon praised equality, and employed many female comrades. Some of his best Equalist fighters were women, swift and agile; terrifying grace and fury.

To tear down a woman until she is shivering muscle and frightened breaths, Noatak knows, is as far from equality as one can get. The youth claws at his throat and howls until he is empty, for his movement has succeeded: no more Triads, the street is predominantly metal and diminutive trees with very little to transmute, and bender gangs are too proud to use those Future Industries gun contraptions. Benders no longer have an advantage, in an era with peace and sedentary living. In the end, all he can ruminate over is his hideous inhumanity.

Noatak is smart, and smart people are opportunists, whether they admit to it or not. With his searing intelligence, he knew he would find Korra in this diminutive event, cheery hosts and sponsors downplaying her power as little more than smoke and mirrors. He plans it to a science, to suggest her house, to sob, to recoil, to offer little resistance.

And yet, despite all this premeditation, he fails to forecast the the destructive protests of his panicking heart, no matter how often he tells himself that this is what he wants. The doorbell rings a cheery tune, and Korra answers in a shimmery dress that reminds him of the waves that buried him, eternities ago.

_This is what you want._

"Avatar."

_this is what you want this is what you want this is what you want_

Korra is a wounded animal, and the face she makes is a tumbling of shadows. Noatak hides his sorrow, conceals his regret, and hardens his eyes.

"Try to stop me-"

He begins, and Korra seizes him by the throat, slamming the door shut and pulling him inside. He squirms with the experience of a single semester acting course, shouting obscenities, calling her names, and she waterbends from a vase and pins his half crouching form to her living room wall.

It is exactly the same.

_this is what you_

Outside, Noatak is laughing, a grotesque noise. Inside, he consoles himself.

_want-_

She leaves for a moment and returns with a knife. Noatak's act deflates, but he finds comfort in the fact that the end is coming.

_this_

Korra is pulling down his pants; and his mind immediately wanders to the scenario of what every rape victim would love to do as revenge. Ultimately, it wouldn't matter, right? She was going to kill him afterwards-

She holds the knife at the base, pointing the handle towards him, yanking off his undergarments. He is so frozen by fear that he does not protest, and when it enters all he can do is choke out a sob. Korra is talking, and he hears vague snippets - this is what you deserve, you monster, how does it feel - and all he knows is that it is exactly the same.

It hurts. Blood trickles down his legs and he shuts his eyes, the memory drowning him more than any sting. Is that his voice? Is he so pathetic? She must be enjoying herself, good for her.

"…This is what I want," he whispers, not realizing he has said it out loud.

Korra stops. It is still inside him, and he laughs again, gurgling between mirth and hollowness.

"I tricked you," Noatak says, smiling bloodlessly. "I'm glad. I'm so glad. I can finally die. Won't you do me the honors?"

He feels himself being emptied, taking in the gratifying view of the woman dropping the knife and backing away, a slick sheen of blood- his blood, warm on her fingers.

"I'm just like you," she says with a strangled cry, and Noatak is disappointed to find pity thrown into the mix of revulsion. "I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to report you to the authorities, and they'll lock you up for life."

Oh, this is gold and wealth.

"Avatar Korra meets the reincarnation of the legendary Amon, and fucks him with the black end of a kitchen knife. Surely they'll think you're insane."

She frowns. Her lips form an almost pout; he always liked that pout in the newspapers.

"Thank you. " His mind is descending, cloud and fog and false truths. He isn't thinking anymore, and it is Noatak's downfall. "I just wanted you to get even… I… I'm glad… I'm so happy…"

He closes his eyes. It is easier if he doesn't look at her.

"Thank you, Korra. Please, please, do whatever you like. You can dump my body by the Aokigahara Forest if you prefer, suicides there are commonplace. If you'd like to cut me up some more first, be my guest-"

Korra slaps him in the face, and his eyes jolt open. There is no anger left in her, and it upsets him.

"Who… are you?"

"I'm Noatak. I'm also Amon. Can we get this show on the road? I didn't pay my rent this month because I planned this ahead of time-"

"-Oh spirits," she breaths, the ice melting. He comes close to collapsing on the ground, but she catches him with strong arms. He has no strength left to fight her.

"Please, just kill me."

Noatak feels small.

"No," she replies, and only now does he properly feel her embrace, a hellish vice.

"I'm begging you."

"No, I won't!"

The Avatar always gets what she wants.

"Then what will you do?"

Her hands stroke his head. He wants to vomit.

"What you'll do, is take a bath. If you didn't pay rent, you can stay here until you get back on your feet."

"You're nuts. Also, I can't move my legs."

She replies by half carrying him, half dragging (so humiliating, oh joy) him to her pristine white bathroom, leaving a small trail of blood. He steps into the bathtub and holds metal bars for support to sit down, completely neglecting to remove his sweaters. Korra is impatient and runs the water, steaming hot and biting at his skin.

"What is wrong with you? Why would you do that to yourself?! Why would you… let me…"

Noatak looks down at the pale pink up to his waist.

"But you enjoyed it. And I did too, very much, because I'm a sick fuck and I have a lot of things wrong with me. And if you'd like to continue this with me, by all means feel free to."

"I can't." She shakes her head resolutely.

"Then you'll be responsible for my suicide. I'm blackmailing you, Avatar Korra. Emotional blackmail is my specialty. But you'll find this therapeutic, I think. It will do wonders for you. Viciousness did wonders for me, and now I'm just perpetually guilty and addicted to the thought of my own end."

Korra convulses into sobs.

"I promise, that you'll find it most satisfying."

"You're a monster," she breathes.

"And since you admit it, this is a great partnership for both of us."

She punches him in the face. Noatak lowers his head and dons the costume of a gutted beast of burden.

"If you like, I can look hurt, or I can say all the things I said to you from before. It sure got you excited the first time around. What will it be?"

"…Look hurt," she decides, a white flag of surrender. "Look really, really hurt. I'll feel less guilty."

A vague tidal wave of regret overcomes him, but he has to respect her wish, so he does as he is told. Korra hands him a bar of soap and leaves the bathroom, and he scrubs without feeling clean.


	3. please

3- please

While Noatak soaks, Korra furiously waterbends the red stains off her carpet and dumps the excess into her kitchen sink, wondering how it came to this. He did want to die, did he not? Maybe she should kill him, put him out of his misery and rid her of this dark burden. It stuns her, however, his eagerness, and a horror settles in when she realizes that the only reason why he came is so she could be the one to end his life.

The remorse- the twisted, aching regret that he evidently carries, is what troubles her the most. He is begging for an eye for an eye, and Korra cannot fathom his guilt, an overwhelming desire to suffer. The blood turns her water into the color of pale spring flowers, and she shuts the blinds and windows, ashamed.

She sharply inhales and heads for her room. Once he's done, he'll need clothes, and she rummages through her drawers for something presentable, a difficult task due to Asami's years of training her tastes. Several feminine garments later, she settles for a white shirt adorned with false gold buttons, the real enclosure a small clasp at the nape, plain black pants, and the least girly pair of underwear she owns. Leaving the clothes at a table by the bathroom door, she dumps herself onto the living room love seat, massaging her temples.

Aang would disapprove. Her connection to her past lives grows stronger as time passes, and never could she imagine any of them commiting an act of vengeance as vicious as this. She stares blankly at Asami's technicolor television, an extravagant birthday present from her factory that she has so far not turned on, and feels her friends judging her already.

"You certainly look glum," Noatak states dully. She jumps in her seat, swearing his footsteps are silent velvet. This is the first time she sees unfathomable hurt in him, even more severe than his sobs from before. "My offer for you to kill me still stands, so feel free to take me up on that at any time."

Korra can sense herself crumbling. "Why, why do you want this so bad? You have a new life, you're so young, don't you want to start fresh? Nobody will judge you if they don't know."

He is a caged bird, she thinks, who clipped his wings willingly. When he replies, it is a patient blade that cuts deep.

"I can't live like this. I try to forget about it. Do you know how hard this is? To be responsible for destruction, for cruelty, and getting off free. It's horrible, it's sickening."

Noatak halts for emphasis. "Of course you don't. You're the Avatar, and the Avatar guides the world and saves it. You can never do anything bad, because it's not in you. And that's why you can't kill me, no matter how badly I want it."

She wrings the folds of her skirt until the fabric crumples.

"Hopefully you'll change your mind, Korra. I'll be waiting."

_you can never do anything bad_

The overhead lights shine benevolently on his frame, compact but broad shouldered, the elongated dancer build of most waterbenders. He is different, but the same, old, spent eyes a jarring contrast to his unfairly clear face. Korra rises, and he stiffens visibly as she approaches him, abject terror in his eyes as she reaches to stroke his cheek.

"Stop," he demands, but Korra leans in for a kiss, and upon meeting his lips he shakes his head frantically.

"Stop!"

She grips his shirt collar, marveling at her power.

"No. You want me to kill you, right? Then I'll kill you this way. Nice and slow."

A strangled noise escapes him as she opens her mouth, but just as she thought she had gained the upper hand, the kiss he gives her is quiet and languid, like the kiss of someone in love. Raising her arms over his shoulders and taking him in, she finds firm satisfaction at his hands encircling his waist, afraid and tender. The action is both brief and eternal, hyper clear, from the smell of her vanilla soap under his borrowed shirt, to the desperate beat of his heart.

Noatak is the first to part away.

"I don't like this," he admits, and Korra does not see Amon at all.

"Then this is exactly what you want."

"I guess you're right."

He smiles; too innocent, too sincere. Korra pokes him firmly between his ribs.

"I'm still going to beat you up once in a while. Just in case you're an idiot, it's an acquired sexual taste, and I've never found enough partners who enjoyed it."

Is he laughing? Spirits, he's laughing, but it is a kind sound.

"I have no experience in that. I always thought the slave and master stuff was cheesy."

"Wow," she says, dumbfounded. "You really are an idiot. Not everyone does that. This kind of stuff has a lot of trust involved. I have to trust you to tell me if it's too much, and you have to trust me that I'll know when to stop."

Noatak appears to be processing the information, and nods.

"I'm not in the mood for it now though, especially since you just showered."

Korra returns to her seat and idly flips on the screen, greeted by a commercial for Tahno's clothing line, a slim Fire Nation woman wearing her same exact dress, in cherry red, while her visitor remains in his spot. She does not see his expression turning sinister, nor the clenching of his fists.

"How does it feel to be rendered useless?" he asks mockingly, and Korra cannot tell if he is sincere. "Nobody needs the Avatar anymore. They have guns now, and people are getting fat and stupid. You're outdated."

"You're just goading me," she retorts, but turns to his direction and sees the bitter fire of his eyes.

"I _raped_ you, and I enjoyed it. I saw you crumble, left you in the dark, and thought it was the best thing I ever did. The great and glorious Avatar, so caring as to forgive me. You're a fool."

It burns her, and before she knows it, she is leaping forward and constricting his throat, the wall slamming to meet his back. He does not struggle, a placid, frozen calm in his entire presence that chills Korra to the bone.

She fell for it, hook line and sinker.

Her stomach churns as she releases him, and he slowly collapses to the floor, fingers ghosting over the marks on his neck as though they are treasured gifts. Noatak regards her with gratefulness, and she feels empty.

"You're so broken," she whispers, and he nods, tears in his eyes that he wears like jewels.

Korra kneels to meet him, and immediately he backs away, trembling as she holds him and kisses the bruises.

_I'm sorry_

"S-s-stop-"

_I'm sorry_

His sobs are open sores. She does not stop.

_I'm sorry_

He attempts to push her away and scratches his neck in repeated motions, inconsolable. Korra takes both of his wrists and pins them above his head (why, why does this have to happen) and continues her ministrations, until he stops struggling entirely.

The sky grows pitch black against her heavy curtains. Korra pries herself away, and tells him she is going to make them dinner, giving a parting glance to see Noatak curl into himself, knees held close, head lowered.

She does not see Amon. She sees herself, and that's what hurts the most.


	4. you

4- you

If he had to choose, Noatak wants nothing more than to remain there, on Korra's rug, pressing solidly at his throat. Phantom tingles of her grip leaves him with something strongly resembling ecstasy; rage and love share the theme of wicked symptoms that one feels in the gut, in the chest, sickness and fever. Furthermore, if he had to delude himself in considering it acceptable, he'd prefer love, though fully aware that rage is all he deserves.

She is giving him neither. It brings out the worst discontent, battling with pleasure, fighting with remorse. The marks are anger, the kisses pity, and for the life of him he cannot decide which one he likes more than the other. Avatar Korra, unjustly youthful, unfairly kind, planting her lips on her victimizer's neck- it is beyond revolting, and he loathes himself for loving it.

Enticing smells waft from the kitchen, unmistakably Water Tribe seaweed and baby tiger seal. Korra obviously lied about being a bad cook, and he asks air and spirits if her low self esteem still lingers as a remnant from long prior. He debates getting up, and decides that joining her is inevitable, willing himself to stand and head towards her kitchen. The house is small, he thinks, humble yellow on the outside and sparsely furnished inside, a testament to modesty under her large title.

Like Avatar Aang, perhaps? A pledge to a simple life with few desires. What would make him, then? Yakone's legacy, irredeemable and revolting; maybe the esteemed Zuko, if he lied to himself. The former firelord changed the superior, xenophobic mentality of the entire Fire Nation, essentially single handedly, from oppressors to active participants of the world surrounding them. Unlike him, the regent's successful efforts to shape history is looked on favorably to this day, vocal detractors significantly diminished. His legacy, on the other hand, no matter how polarizing, is sullied by death.

The ruminations quiet down as Korra flashes him a restrained smile, filling two bowls with seaweed soup, seal meat, and flat cut noodles. He knows that when he smiles it is almost never sincere, but attempts anyway, taking the food and seating himself across the other side of the table, pleasantly surprised at her meal. Certainly, it can't be passable as restaurant quality, but it is impressive regardless.

"It's good," he offers, cursing the weakness of his voice.

Korra is appreciative. They eat in silence, and Noatak finds himself finishing the entire thing. He washes the silverware and bowl, and bores a hole in the ground with downcast eyes. The Avatar clears her throat, and he stands to attention.

"I'm going to take my evening shower, feel free to watch tv until then."

"Then what will we do?" he asks, too eager.

"Probably indulge that weird masochistic desire of yours. I have a lot of tricks, but as the Avatar I can't be caught dead with this fetish."

Discomfort reads plain as day on her face. He theorizes that her sexual proclivities are remnants of Avatar Kyoshi, but declines to comment.

"I'm glad to be of use then," he replies pathetically.

Korra chuckles. "Spirits, considering what you used to be, this is a complete 180. It's kind of amusing."

"I'm still a manipulative asshole," Noatak states, utterly drained. "Now I'm just a manipulative asshole who likes pain and wants to die."

It kills the mood swiftly. She still laughs, but it is empty, leaving for the bathroom as he watches her sculpted back and bare arms, the same as ever. Same face, but less fire. Same voice, but less sting.

After mutely remaining at the kitchen with little purpose for several minutes, he takes her up on the offer and turns on the screen in the living room, flipping to a channel which frequently showcases those strange Fire Nation cartoons. He thinks the employment of gaudy hair colors is annoying at best, and the fact that teens of the real world consider it trendy to replicate the aesthetic is beyond absurd to him. He is, however, entranced by the recurring themes of these shows: a world without bending, replaced by the futuristic settings that Future Industries or their rival companies could only dream of inventing, and protagonists with strong resolves, often coupled with unrealistic power.

He wants to save the world, even now. As Amon, he simply did it the wrong way. This thought occurs to him as a male lead screams about friendship and overcoming adversity for the sake of his friends, and he takes comfort in it, however minute.

"Are you seriously watching that stuff?" Korra inquires with a raised eyebrow, dressed in a plain nightgown.

"Yes, I am 'seriously' watching it," Noatak replies. "Those main characters aren't that much younger than me, and they almost always get happy endings."

She falters, and seats himself close to him. "I never understood their hair."

"The shows tend to have animation styles where they recycle certain faces, and the hair is used to differentiate the characters."

"Sounds lazy, if you ask me."

"Just watch it," he says, the entire situation strangely light. "It's not that bad."

They watch three episodes about young girls granted incredible power for a single wish, in exchange for the difficult task of fighting monsters that plagued the world with despair. Korra peppers their viewing experience with questions and eyerolls, but gradually becomes engrossed. Noatak questions what wish he would give his life for; in the past, it was equality.

The present is harder.

"Whoa, did that thing seriously bite her head off?!" She yelps, and Noatak restrains the urge to laugh. "And I thought it was such a cute show!"

"I told you, it wasn't that bad."

The girls cry. Noatak knows how the story ends; he's watched this series twice before, but if Korra is interested, he doesn't have to spoil the conclusion. She turns the television off with disappointment that the three episodes was all they'd get for that night, and faces him, wearing an expression he cannot read.

"We'll get started," she tells him, and it borders on ominous. Dirty tingles ring inside him, and he observes with morbid curiosity as she obtains a pen from a drawer and unsheaths the edge, revealing a small knife.

"Take off the shirt and sit down."

Her command is clinical, strict. He follows without question, and Korra appears surprised by his frame, nowhere near as bulky as before, but still relatively fit and healthy. She bends forward and makes tiny, flowing cuts on his chest, not enough to scar, but enough to draw blood. His breath escapes in tiny gasps and shivers of wicked delight, and he is thoroughly embarrassed at his arousal, praying she won't notice right away.

"That was fast," she says, deadpan. Noatak smiles nervously. She sheaths the knife and leaves it on the table, grasping him there. He shouts and clamps his legs on instinct. Korra laughs at him, nearing vicious.

"How many girls have you fucked, Noatak?"

"Uh- aaah! As -aah- Noatak, or as Amon?"

"As you, right now."

"Two," he mumbles, in utter disbelief at how quickly she drew this out in him. "Both older women."

"Aaaw, a sugar baby," she teases. "Did they like you?"

"They loved me," he boasts, immediately flustered. Korra straddles his lap and traces her fingers around the drying blood.

"Did they hurt you this way too?"

"No," he replies, his mind scattering off like waves in the sea, sensations too strong, strangled with fear and lust. "They were lonely."

"Charity work with monetary benefits," she says menacingly, and kisses him with hunger.

She is outright savage, and he cannot help but follow as she bites his lower lip and fully exploits his mouth. He grasps her waist as she grinds into him, sharing a mutual shudder. It is both too much and not enough, and she pulls his need from the fabric of his pants and underwear and lowers herself. He's gasping now, bucking and yelping as she leaves a long scattering of bite marks on the curves of his shoulders. It takes a maddening amount of self control not to come right there and then, a record first for him. He feels the strain of his hair being yanked to expose the column of his neck, earlier bruises now accompanied with tooth marks.

It is a far cry from before, because he wants it so desperately, while Korra didn't want what he burdened her with at all. The pronounced difference is staggering, and he almost doesn't want to enjoy it, but he can't help himself, her breasts firm against him, barely sheathed in the layer of silk gown. He's making an awful lot of noise, he realizes, and so is she, nails digging deep into his back and trailing tracks of scratched flesh.

"You little shit, you want this."

"Yes," he says with tiny hitches of breath, her fingers coated with dried, flaking blood, along with new blood, and he can't help himself, he's screaming now, and Korra engulfs his mouth and comes, and he takes it as permission to do the same.

It is stillness and a large expanse of silence for what seems like too long, before she pries herself off, ruffling his hair as an afterthought.

"Wow, you really liked that," she states with a little laugh. "You're so fucked up."

He says nothing, a dopey smile refusing to leave his face. She takes him by the wrist and they shower for a second time, and he scrubs the places she can't reach, dazed with how much he likes it. It feels wrong and disgusting, and he doesn't know whether to approve or not.

But as Korra grins in satisfaction and kisses him again as the water sloshes under their feet, he shoves it at the back of his head.


	5. truth

5- truth

"I'm sorry."

Noatak's hair is long when not strung up, Korra notices, damp strands leaving little droplets on yet another shirt he has borrowed. He is repentant; she frowns at this.

"For what? It was nice. This was nice."

He is pressed flowers in discarded books. She sighs.

"It was nice for me too, which is why I'm apologizing."

"Oh fucking knock it off!"

It comes out louder and angrier than she planned for, but she finds sick, unwarranted satisfaction at his bewilderment, blossoming into hurt. She likes this; she likes this immensely, unpleasant joy at his constant repentance. Amon, but not Amon, willing and yielding, an enemy groveling at her feet.

But it feels wrong, feels wrong when he folds into himself, paper burning in the heat of flames, disintegrating. Korra wants to apologize, but she likes this too much.

"Just go to bed, Noatak. Don't say sorry. I don't mind whether you like it, because I do."

He's mentioned the other women. They must have adored him; his eyes are murky water hiding a secret so grave, under a soft voice and a quiet demeanor, too content to please.

_you can never do anything bad_

His smile is distressing because it is so sincere.

"Good night, Korra. Sleep well."

Amon told her he would destroy her, and now it is the other way around, and she is at a loss for what to think.

* * *

_Tahno always chose the best eateries; this one served Fire Nation cuisine, spicy meats, exotic desserts, and delicious sweet red wines. Korra flashed him a smile, and they chatted idly about his successful business venture into fashion design, having quit probending after a year of disinterest, the guilt of cheating in the past too much for him._

_"How's your friend, Song?" she asked, noting his expression took a turn for the worse, as though the excitement of his marketing campaign was never discussed._

_"She won't leave that guy," he says with exasperation. "Kept saying that since she likes getting slapped around in bed, that the guy thought it was fine and dandy to slap her around outside of fucking. Isn't it common sense that this isn't how it works?"_

_Korra nodded in agreement. "That's awful. Hell, you like that kind of stuff and I would never picture you actually taking shit like that in the real world."_

_His frame hardened with rage. "People are so fucking stupid. Having sex is all about pleasure, and if their pleasure is getting dominated by cute ladies, like mine is, it stays in the bedroom. If anyone were to treat me like a sack of scum while I ordered food or bought groceries, I'd shit on their day and shit on them hard."_

_She never dreamed of befriending him just a year before, let alone sleeping with him occasionally, nor his needy demand for cuddles after fucking. Funny how things worked._

_"You're a good person, Tahno."_

_"Well that's out of the blue, Uh-vatar."_

_His lips curved into a smile, and she mirrored it effortlessly._

_"I'll give you a dress one day, that I'll design just for you."_

* * *

Sun filters from her windows kindly, and she groans under her blankets, desperate for a few more precious minutes of sleep, but she smells something incredibly sweet through her doors that lures her into the kitchen. Noatak waits there for her with a large stack of pancakes and a grin like spring honey.

"You had some spare fruit, so I made pancakes with lychee and mango filling. I'm not sure if you like things that are too sweet, and I was worried, but I guess it's too late."

"Don't be a moron, thank you! It smells great."

She gifts him with a gentle hug, and he makes a little noise of surprise, taking a few seconds too long to wrap his arms in turn.

_at least he didn't tell me to stop_

When they eat, Korra is outright dumbfounded by how great it is, and proceeds to give a long string of compliments that appear to be hurting Noatak more than helping him. He thanks her, regardless, and she realizes that she has something to do today, a late birthday gathering with Tenzin and his family, with her parents visiting as well. She tells him this and he doesn't seem hurt.

"Since you'll be staying here for a while, I guess you can spend today getting things from your apartment to bring here. I'll give you my spare set of keys."

_I can't live like this_

He kisses her goodbye, on the forehead, and they part ways. It is a mockery of love and a healthy relationship, and the woman realizes as she is greeted with love in Air Temple Island, that she only knows Amon, and not Noatak, the boy in his late teens who won a game show with a perfect score for the sole purpose of asking her to end his life, who smiles like a fire dying out, whose pancakes are sweet and melt in her mouth, like his kiss. It plagues her mind as her parents wish her happy birthday, as Tenzin's children, no longer children but extremely bright adults, give her extravagant gifts and well wishes. When she blows out her candles and eats cake and unwraps her presents, she thinks of her life, so filled with love and care and adoration, despite the public not so much as batting an eye at her presence.

Most of all, as her parents embrace her and everyone begs her not to leave, she knows, somehow in her heart, that Noatak has no one.

_I'm sorry_

* * *

"How was your day, Korra?"

A thick book rests on the coffee table that he puts down as he greets her, and she can barely make out that it is about stars and constellations. She embraces him and gives his lips a quick peck, and he is more relaxed at returning the gesture.

"It was enjoyable. I don't get to see my parents often, so I really liked getting together with everyone."

Is he living vicariously? He looks so happy to hear her happy. She attempts to change the subject.

"Did you bring all your stuff?"

"Yeah. A suitcase of clothes and a suitcase of books."

"What do you like to read?"

The question seems to take him by surprise. "Science books, mostly. Physiology of humans and animals, nature and the ecological impact of modern day pollution. Anything that helps me understand."

"Understand?"

"Sometimes... it doesn't feel real."

His face turns morose.

"What do you mean?"

Korra doesn't understand either, why anyone would not feel anything as anything other than real. Bending flows in her with every fiber of her being, the ground under her feet, the elements straining her muscles. She hears animals crawl and fly and sing, and finds joy in the laughter of children. His statement disconcerts her.

"Why do catraccoons and turtleducks exist, and no one questions them, but they question things like plain wolves and bears?" Noatak appears distressed. "The fact that they're hybrid names, means they're two animals. Cats and raccoons. Turtles and ducks. It's so strange that people don't understand that, but I'm probably crazy."

Something in her feels horribly, thoroughly offended, but for the life of her she cannot understand why. "That's- that's just how it is! It's stupid to question that stuff. Catraccoons, tigerbears, and turtleducks are way more common than just bears or wolves. Maybe you are crazy."

He shakes his head and lowers his gaze. "And bending. Bending is so unnatural. Why would genetics in identical twins pass on everything else, but not bending? It doesn't make any sense, the spirit world, and nobody seems to get it-"

"You're still Amon," Korra states gravely, infuriated. "How could you say bending is unnatural? It's real, people use it, and you used it to hurt my friends as well as countless other people."

"I'm not!" He's shouting now, clawing at his hair. "I try, I try so hard to be a good person. I don't even like raising my voice, I don't like getting into arguments, I can't even win card games without feeling guilty, it's just, I'm crazy, but it never makes sense to me, please..."

_please_

She is furious at him, and she doesn't understand, that he has dared to contest everything she held so dear. Korra raises her hand, wanting nothing more than to backhand him, but the way he looks at her makes her stop.

"They always act that way," Noatak says. "Every time I tell them this, everyone's reaction is the same."

She breathes in, so regretful, and takes him in her arms. "It's fine, I'm really sorry. I'm sorry for getting mad at you. I'm sorry-"

He's shaking. Her eyes sting with pinpricks of tears.

_you can never do anything bad_

"I'm sorry, Noatak."

The way he holds her is far too reverent to be comfortable. She wants to retch.

"I used you this whole time, and I never realized it until now," she begins, crying freely now, unable to stop. "I'm so, so sorry for hurting you. I don't even want you to forgive me."

His fingers lace into her hair, his arms warm and tight.

"It's ok, I don't mind. It's ok."

It's not, it's not, she thinks, but says nothing, knowing he will not accept it.


	6. if

6- if

Korra is too close; Noatak's heart is in his throat, then outside him, suspended in barbed wire and threatening to escape. He cannot do anything other than smile and disentangle himself, and tell her nothing is wrong, because to him, everything is right. The Avatar and her full pardon- he keeps her tears and embrace and leaves it to recollect at a distant cupboard in his memory, where he can pretend it is love. Amon wanted to destroy her, and this is success, if distorted. Noatak wants nothing more than her company, to be hers, because he has no one.

"Calm down, Korra. It's fine. If you think you used me, then that's exactly what I wanted anyway."

"You're crazy and you need help," she protests, shaking her head violently. "How long is this going to keep on? Don't you have a life outside of your guilt? Don't you have other things to hope for?"

He laughs and it is bone dry. "I lived in the foster care system until they kicked me out once I turned old enough. All I have are loose acquaintances. I used that money I won from the game show to pay off the student debt from my brief stint at medical school, and I don't plan to live past twenty-one. I have nothing to look forward to but you."

"That's the saddest thing I've ever heard," she says, and he feels sorry for her. "Do you want me to give you things to look forward to besides me?"

"You're welcome to try," he offers. "I'm heading to bed, unless you'd like something else from me tonight."

"I do," she tells him, and takes hold of his hand.

He follows wordlessly, light in the head and heavy in the chest, as she leads him to her bedroom and motions for him to sit with her on the bed. Korra cups his cheek and runs her fingers across the planes of his face, her thumb over his lips, fingertips over the bride of his nose, the tired marks under his sleepless eyes. He can't comprehend it; her face is fog and sky and it is as if he died a second time.

"What are you doing?"

"Memorizing," she says flatly. "You're eighteen, right? You make me feel so old."

"Avatars always age unfairly slow," he replies, but is cut short as her lips graze his neck, light flicks of her tongue idly journeying down until she meets the divot between his collar bones. Noatak gasps, hands instinctively reaching to touch her, over her shoulders, unsure.

"Come on kid, try to be a little more interactive."

"What do you want from me?" he can't help but asking, and it comes out weaker than expected.

"I know you like me." Her mouth hovers close to his ear. "And regardless of who you think you were, you seem like a very sweet person, and I'll forgive the blackmail if you agree to this."

"Agree?"

He is lost but her hands are so gentle, it almost hurts him.

"You're alone, and you don't have anyone, correct?"

"Yes," he replies, and is overcome by the sweetness of her close mouthed kiss.

"I'm an old maid and the public doesn't care about me, and I have very simple desires."

"I don't follow."

"Take care of me," she breathes, letting him down on the bed and pressing her body close. "I will take care of you. We'll both be using each other, if you want to put it that way. You'll cook for me and make me watch your dorky Fire Nation cartoons, and I can pretend that you love me."

"Anyone would love you," he chokes out, and she is overpowering. "You're very easy to love."

"I'm rude and I'm mean, and I push people away, but what are you trying to say?" she asks, slowly unbuttoning his shirt.

"You're not rude, you stand up for what you believe in, and you don't filter yourself. You're not mean, you do so much for the world and they don't even notice. And-"

"And?"

"And if I was actually just a regular eighteen year old boy, with nothing behind me, of course I'd love you."

She undresses herself fully and he does the same. Korra straddles him and everything is delicate yet harsh, real and false.

"It's the thought that counts, I guess," she says, and the sadness lingers.

Noatak is far from a virgin and neither is she, by a long shot, but everything to him feels new, as he runs his hands across her body, as her hair drapes a soft mane over his skin. It is both too slow and too soon, both perfect and out of place. Korra comes in a quiet tremble and he lasts a little longer, and when it ends they bury themselves under the blanket, entangled in each other's arms, and he thinks, as sleep overtakes him, that he was not even aware he wanted this so desperately.

* * *

In the morning, he makes two ingredient banana pancakes from the batch she had close to over-ripeness, and she watches in rapt awe at the discovery that one can make pancakes simply by combining a banana and eggs. They eat it with jam and juice, and she flips through the paper in her pajamas and bra, while Noatak reads about the ancient history of the Earth Kingdom.

"So, Korra. Is this going to be a public thing?"

"I don't see why not. Celebrities are socially acceptable cradle robbers."

"Won't your friends and family disapprove?"

"They'll chalk it up to me going through a phase. Besides, I'm thirty-five, I think I'm entitled to have full control over my life."

He frowns. "I don't want the public to look at you poorly."

She lets out a snort. "The public doesn't look at me at all, so it's just a minor change of pace for me. 'Avatar Korra gets a boy toy,' won't that be fucking rich?"

"Are you sure?"

"Tahno and Asami will adore you," she says with earnestness. "They're really my only friends I keep in close contact with anymore. I'll handle Tenzin and my folks when the time comes. Don't worry, alright?"

"If you say so."

She smiles and leans across the table to kiss him, and they shower and dress. The day is surprisingly duller than expected- Korra speaks at a local event on the importance of donating to impoverished areas, and his presence is little more than a footnote, and even as she receives a few questions as they hold hands, the woman keeps her replies brief.

"Where did you two meet?"

"At a stupid event," Korra replies curtly. "That's all I do these days. Let me tell you, he's a very good cook. I always wanted a manservant."

"What do you think of the Avatar?"

"She's funny. She screamed while we were watching an animated series meant for teenagers! It was pretty hysterical."

Good publicity. It is unexpectedly good publicity.

So far, at least.


	7. old

7- old

They return back from the gathering and grocery shopping, and Noatak makes an elaborate spicy peanut noodle dish and a side of soup. While he purses his lips to eat, Korra comes once again to the bitter reminder that she knows nothing about him, and yet here she is, sleeping with him, making public appearances with him, and eating his meals. Scratch that- she is aware that he makes adorable noises in bed, owns enough books to fit a suitcase larger than the one which contained his clothes, attempted to attend medical school, and had a past life as Amon. She does not know his birthday, his hobbies outside of reading, or his favorite movies. It fills her with discomfort.

"Tell me about yourself," she says as he is in mid-chew. He gives her a puzzled look, downs a glass of water, and laughs gently.

"There's nothing to tell, other than quantitative facts that don't mean anything. My favorite color is sea foam green, an Equalist woman taught me how to cook, and I like birds- what do you get from that knowledge? Literally nothing. It's a plague of social interactions, really. Most people only gather with a shared interest, and if you strip them of said interests, they have nothing left to talk about."

Korra scowls. "It's just a request, you don't have to blow it out of proportion! I'd like to know a person well if I'm living with them, or else it's just weird."

"So you want to get to know me," Noatak states, as though he is preparing to guard himself. "There's nothing to know, other than I am here for your benefit, and for all intents and purposes, you can consider me yours entirely. Property, pet, significant other, sugar baby- it means little to me in the long run."

"You're fucking insane." She groans, placing her utensils down.

_back to square one_

"Fine. Play it that way. I _order_ you to tell me about yourself. Go into elaborate, unnecessary detail. We have all night, and I don't have any events to go to for the next week."

His laughter is so pleased that it almost disgusts her, the revulsion mixing with intense pity.

"Very well then. I lived in a foster home for as long as I can remember, and any prospective parents were turned off by me because I was very quiet and unaffectionate. As a child grows older the chances of them being adopted grows very slim, so I lived in that system until I was fully grown. I tried to cultivate my own interests. I learned a lot of musical instruments to the point of slightly better than mediocrity, but I tend to give up hobbies as soon as I get decent at it. It's a defeatist attitude of thinking I don't deserve anything, but at least it got me a lot of money from performing in the street. I have an encyclopedic knowledge of botany and reading is the one thing I indulge in that doesn't upset me, because knowledge is a gift rather than a skill you work hard for."

"What else?" She asks, and she recalls something she wanted desperately to know. "Are you a bender?"

"Yes, a waterbender. I found my prior beliefs hypocritical. Bending is not evil. Impoverished countries of the Earth Kingdom with limited technology use it to till their crops and build their homes. Waterbenders save lives every day, and even with modern surgery it's still helpful, and often more affordable and less invasive. I was blinded by ignorance and abuse I endured in my childhood, but I know better now. Bending isn't evil; power simply corrupts, and I was guilty of it."

Korra processes this slowly, and proceeds with caution. "Are you a bloodbender?"

Noatak's face turns grave. "Yes. I know the body very intimately, and only ever used it on myself. I can make myself puke if I felt like it. I can make myself lightheaded to the point of fainting if I ever wanted to get out of a situation that was unpleasant, or simply couldn't deal with myself that day. I can make my body warmer if I'm cold, I can make my body colder if I'm hot, and whenever I self harm I make sure I never have any scarring."

She is unaware whether to be horrified or thoroughly impressed, so she chooses both. "You... self harm?"

"Of course! I would have killed myself already if I didn't prefer that you do it instead."

"Do you still want me to?" she asks, feeling frail.

"It would be ideal, but pleasing you works too."

"That makes me feel horrible."

"I'm sorry," he says, and she feels the hurt in his voice. "Is there anything I can do?"

"No. There's nothing you can do. I guess we're just going to have to feel horrible together, until we get used to it eventually."

Noatak gets up and walks over to her and kisses her on the forehead, and she swears it feels dangerously close to love.

"If you want, I can act like Amon, and you can get furious with me, if it makes it easier."

There's tears in her eyes, and she tries in vain to blink them out.

"But you're not Amon, and you're too delusional and fucked up to understand that. You're an eighteen year old boy who punishes himself for absolutely no reason, for something thrust upon you that you had no control over, who wants to get bossed around and owned by an old maid, when you should be dating a nice girl and taking her out to dinner."

She's crying now, and she feels so ugly, so alone; to have someone's devotion for all the wrong reasons. Noatak cradles her and his affection makes her feel even worse; how could he? How can someone's love hurt this much?

_I'm sorry_

"I'll tell you something funny, Korra," he says, and his voice feels miles away. "When I was Amon, I'd clip pictures of you in the papers and keep them in a little book. I knew I hated you and everything you stood for, but I hear snippets of your activities in those interviews, and I thought that you meant well, and clearly cared very much about people, and it was so unfortunate that you were a bender, because I would have been very fond of you if you weren't. It tore me up and tortured me. And that's why I- I wanted both, the person and the body, and thought I could have settled for your body, but-"

He recoils from her, visibly shaken.

"And that's why I can never forgive myself, even if I'm not Amon anymore. He can never make up for what he's done, so I thought I should."

She thinks she understands. The memory kills her, seeps into her insides, constricts her throat, makes her angry and makes her feel vulnerable, and finally, she thinks she understands.

He must feel that way every day.

Korra wipes her eyes, takes a few calming breaths, and looks at him directly. "I don't forgive him either, but like I said before, if you remember. What did I say?"

Noatak is beautiful, roses in winter and icicles in spring.

"Take care of me, and I will take care of you," he recites, as though the words are a blessing.

"That's all I want from you."

He smiles. They finish dinner in silence, sleep in the bed without sleeping together, and he dozes off before she does. In slumber, he looks even younger, with his tired, spent eyes shielded away. She rests a hand to cup his cheek, trying to commit his features by heart, before nodding off herself.

* * *

Asami calls Korra's home two days later and proceeds to give her the politest scolding she could manage.

_- he's using you, he's a bum who wants fame, I thought you knew better-_

_-he hoarded enough money just from odd jobs to last ten years comfortably, relax, he's very sweet, if he wanted to bum off someone famous he definitely set his goals too low-_

_-you're crazy, do you know what this will do for your public image?-_

_-all you care about is public image, Asami, that's why you left me and Tahno, and it's too late to take it back-_

_-I had no choice-_

_-of course you didn't.-_

_-I'm sorry-_

_-of course you are.-_

It doesn't end well. When Noatak asks why she is upset, she says it is an old wound he should have no concern over, and notifies him of two dinner guests the following Saturday. He enthusiastically offers to make a full course meal, and asks who they are.

"Oh, just my two friends who I had a threesome with that I successfully hid for seven years."

She is too blunt, and wonders if she has offended him.

"Wow, that's so cool. I hope they don't think I'm annoying."


End file.
